


Show Me What You're Made Of

by MakeTheMoon



Category: Rhett & Link
Genre: Blow Jobs, College, Friends to Lovers, Hand Jobs, Length vs Breadth, M/M, very minor Dom!Link
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-15
Updated: 2017-12-15
Packaged: 2019-02-15 05:37:21
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,753
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13024365
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MakeTheMoon/pseuds/MakeTheMoon
Summary: Rhett and Link settle a long-standing argument.





	Show Me What You're Made Of

**Author's Note:**

> This started as a short headcanon on my Tumblr and it's barely been edited/reread! I just consolidated it to post here.

The biggest argument, or at least the longest-running, wasn’t a real argument. It was a joke, or at least it was supposed to be. They were so close, and all their new college friends were perplexed by their friendship, and honestly they knew people talked - you don’t watch a guy slowly back away from your dorm room after seeing you both in boxers on top of each other and not know that people are talking, or at least thinking.

But of course, like most men of that age, the biggest issue was the size of a certain body part. It would be another few years, plus marriage before either of them realised it didn’t matter - girls don’t care. Men care, though, and Rhett and Link were certainly men.

So there was always a small argument. Who needed the biggest shoe size when the new school year rolled around, who could run the fastest, who could hook up with the most girls before Christmas. It was all a symptom of the same issue.

One night, Link comes through the door, tired and irritable, thinks he’s maybe failed the test he just took.

Rhett feels like it’s the right time to tell him that he’s pretty sure that’s the one he aced last semester. Link says, “not now, man.”

“But… if not now, when?”

“Rhett, fuck off please. If I fail this test then I’ll have to get like a 97% on the final to pass.”

Rhett knows that’s not true, knows he’s actually doing really well in that class and probably passed the test with flying colours, which is the only reason he says, “oh yeah, I definitely passed that class with a 95. Never failed any tests - or assignments, for that matter.”

Link throws his pillow at Rhett from across their small room, then steps into his space. He must be tired, because the next thing he says doesn’t make any sense to Rhett. “We both know what all the arguing is about, so how about we just end it right here?”

“Um… I don’t- I don’t know what you mean.”

“Yes you do, Rhett, you aren’t stupid, as you have so nicely pointed out for me. We both know I’m bigger - you’ve seen it. Stop trying to win.”

“I’m clearly bigger, Link. I’ve got 7 whole inches on you,” he tops that off with a wink, but Link is not in the mood for games.

“Prove it.”

“Jeez, Link, alright. I get it. Go to bed.”

“No. Prove it.”

Rhett squirms on his bed, boxers having gotten a little bit tighter with each word Link was saying, especially with how close he had gotten while saying them. But maybe that would help his case.

“Alright, fine. Turn around.”

“Rhett, I want you to take your dick out and let me see it - I’m not turning around for you to take your underwear off.”

Rhett takes a second to process exactly what’s happening, and he’s pretty sure Link is bluffing. So he stands. He stands, and he hooks his thumbs in the waistband of his silk Christmas boxers and starts slowly lowering them. Any second now Link is going to laugh, or turn around, or push him back onto his bed. Any second now Link is going to shame him and make him blush but at least this will all be over.

But Link isn’t saying anything. He’s staring at Rhett’s crotch, and Rhett feels his cock twitch under his gaze. He swallows, then looks down at Link. Link is fully clothed, with baggy jeans, but there’s a definite wet spot just to the left of his zipper.

Rhett’s not sure why that spurs him on - it should scare the shit out of him, the implication here, so many implications - but it does, and he’s hauling his boxers down to mid-thigh and standing straight. He looks good, he’s proud of himself in this moment. He’s trimmed, which helps, and he’s fairly hard, which also helps. And Link’s breath hitches a little, which helps a lot.

“Okay, your turn. Prove it.”   
  
Link hesitates a little bit and Rhett thinks, _ god dammit, he really let it get this far? He couldn’t have stopped just before I got my junk out? _

“I don’t have anything to prove,” Link starts, and Rhett’s just about to open his mouth and curse him out, maybe even give him a small punch in the shoulder when Link continues, “but since you’ve been so compliant…”

So Link unbuckles his belt and Rhett’s still just standing there with his boxers halfway down his thighs and his white socks pulled halfway up his calves, and he’s… he’s kind of embarrassed? Why should be be embarrassed, it’s just Link. He’s been in his boxers and stupid socks in front of Link hundreds of times, they’ve had sleepovers, this whole thing is moot because they  _ have _ seen each other naked before, out of the corner of their eyes in the locker room or skinny dipping or first thing in the morning rushing to get changed before school. He knows Link is bigger, but he’ll be damned if he’s not going to see how this rolls out.

Link pulls off his hoodie, which is an odd choice since he’s just supposed to be showing his dick.

He pulls the hoodie over his head and his hair is fluffy, sticking out at all angles, and Rhett feels a small pang in his chest and a smile tugging at the corners of his mouth.

As Link is pulling his shirt over his head, Rhett tries to get his socks off. He doesn’t do it quite fast enough, and feels like he’s been caught when Link looks at him, arms still through the sleeves of his red t-shirt in front of his chest. Link quirks an eyebrow, but then he’s throwing his shirt on the floor with his hoodie and he’s fiddling with his button and zipper and tugging down his jeans.

The wet spot is decidedly bigger.

The jeans come fully off, so Rhett pulls his second sock off.

Then Link takes a deep breath (which looks like it was supposed to be subtle but was actually anything but) and slides his briefs down.

He’s hard. Harder than Rhett, or at least, harder than Rhett had been a minute ago. He’s leaking and red and his cock is straining to stand up straight.

Rhett’s automatic response is to get fully naked, and he doesn’t think too hard about why that is right now. He pulls off his boxers and steps forward, a question on his lips and in his eyes, and Link says “what the fuck,” but he steps forward too, caught in his briefs.

He pulls them off, frustrated, and all Rhett wants to do in that moment is relax him, remove his stress, make him feel good.

So he does.   
  
He’s not sure exactly what Link needs. He doesn’t know this part of Link. He knows that Link gets angry when he’s frustrated at himself and doesn’t know what to do about it. He implodes, curls in on himself, beats himself up, lets it fester until he can’t anymore. This is when Rhett normally would find a way to sit him down, watch a movie and eat some popcorn. Make stupid jokes, talk over the movie, sing loudly to Merle Haggard records. He knows that part of him.

He doesn’t know this part of him. But he has an idea.

He takes another step closer, trying to make eye contact but Link is looking at the floor or his feet or the door, anywhere but at Rhett. His breathing is shallow. Rhett lays a hand on the side of his waist and holds tight, afraid Link will try to shrug him off.

Link looks at him, then, and steps forward into Rhett’s space more, and Rhett has never been more aware of his cock. He’s had a girl’s mouth on him and he’s been less aware of where it was and what it was doing, but right now it’s nearly touching Link and he can barely think of anything else.

And then, as always, Link surprises him and grasps it, wrapping his large hand fully around him and tugging, pulling Rhett a little closer  _ by his cock _ and jacking him off.

Rhett’s knees buckle a little, and his mouth falls open, but he keeps his wits, forces himself to keep steady because he needs to make sure Link gets out of this what he wants, what he needs.

The hand is removed and when Rhett looks down Link is jerking himself off, slowly, rubbing at the head of his cock with his thumb in no particular rhythm.

“Yep, I’m bigger,” he says.

“Huh,” Rhett says, pushing his face further into Link’s, looking down at him, eyes squinted. Rhett touches himself, pulls up and down once or twice but mostly just squeezes, then reaches for Link and does the same on him.

He revels in Link’s breath hitching again, the sigh that comes after, the lowered eyelids - the tension washing away from his shoulders.

“Maybe longer, but… I think I gotcha beat on girth, man,” he says, a small smirk playing on his face, “but you can check for yourself if you’d like.”

Instead of touching Rhett’s dick again, which is tragic, Link pushes at Rhett’s shoulders, walking towards his bed, backing him up until his calves hit the side of the mattress.

“Down,” Link says.

Rhett obeys. He sits, keeping his eyes on Link the whole time.

“Sit back a bit, bo,” he instructs, pushing a little at Rhett’s shoulders again.

Rhett shuffles back until his knees are flush against the side of the mattress, feet flat on the floor still.

Link straddles him, sitting perfectly on his thighs, grabbing at Rhett’s hand. Rhett intertwines their fingers, but Link scoffs a bit, which hurts, but then he’s placing Rhett’s hand on his cock and laying his own over it to show him what he likes.

They sit there, like that, Link using Rhett’s hand to jerk off and Rhett using his other hand to keep his balance behind him. Rhett follows all directions, and soon Link lets go and allows Rhett to do it himself.

He’s figured out the rhythm, figured out that Link likes it a little bit rough, a little bit dry, and fast. His arm is starting to cramp, not used to the speed, usually going for a much slower pace for himself, when Link’s eyes fall closed. His head drops forward, shoulders following, and Rhett thinks he wants to rest his head on Rhett’s shoulder but he can’t figure out how to tell him that it’s okay to go ahead. For now he lets Link hang there, breath quickening, hips jumping in time with Rhett’s hand, until he’s coming over both of them, first shooting onto Rhett’s stomach, then dripping down Rhett’s hand and his own cock.

Rhett waits for his breathing to slow, still gripping his cock. When he thinks it’s safe he leans back, elbows on the bed first and then dropping back all the way, pulling Link with him, laying him on his chest.

He rubs circles on Link’s back with his other hand and says, “I’m sure you did great on the test, Link.”

Link snorts and lifts his head, eyebrows knitted together, and Rhett says, “I’m serious! You always worry for nothing, everything is going to be fine,” and maybe he’s not just talking about the test now.

Link lays his head back down and takes a deep breath, lets it out slowly, Rhett feeling him relax even more into the position, enjoying the weight on his body.

“You’re bossy,” he says into Link’s hair.

“And you liked it,” Link replies.

“Hmm.”

Link lifts his head again, his pupils wide and dark. He bites lightly at Rhett’s jaw, then says, “touch yourself, Rhett,” into his ear.

Rhett doesn’t think about it. He just obeys.   
  
Link grinds himself onto Rhett’s thighs as Rhett jerks himself off, slowly, the way he likes it. Link can’t be getting much out of it at this point, just wiggling for the fun of it. He licks a stripe up Rhett’s neck and breathes hot into his ear and hair, breath coming in little sharp gasps every time Rhett’s knuckles brush against his belly.

Rhett can hear a low moan and realises belatedly that it’s his own voice, rhythmic, in time with Link’s grinding.

“Faster,” Link says.

“No, fuck you, this is how I like it. If you want it done right do it yourself,” Rhett answers, really just wanting Link’s hand on his dick again.

“I said,” Link grabs his hand, squeezing it around Rhett’s cock and pulling a whine from deep in Rhett’s chest, “faster.”

So Rhett moves faster, jerking himself like he did Link. It’s almost clinical, there’s no finesse, just up and down, still dry. He doesn’t like it, but he loves the look on Link’s face and in his eyes, and he knows he’d do anything for him. But. That doesn’t mean he can’t ask.

“Can I - I need. I need lube,” he says, the words forming around his shallow breaths.

Link looks like he’s thinking about it, and Rhett thinks he could cry waiting for Link’s answer.

He nearly does cry when Link crawls backwards on his knees and leans forward, wrapping his lips around Rhett’s cock above Rhett’s own hand.

Rhett has to stop himself from bucking up into Link’s mouth, but he doesn’t have to try very hard because Link is pushing so hard on his hips that he couldn’t move no matter how much he tried.

Link’s always had a big mouth. And right now it’s perfect, the perfect size, fitting around Rhett’s cock and lowering slowly. Rhett has a fleeting moment where he thinks,  _ shit, I won’t ever be able to do that for Link, he’s too big,  _ before he decides that he’ll figure it out - he’ll make it work, for Link.

Rhett gets a little cocky when Link pushes Rhett’s hand out of the way and Link’s fingers have a hard time fully wrapping around Rhett - large hands, but barely large enough.

“See. See, you can barely fit your hand around me - there’s still an argument there, buddy,” he says through his sighing and moaning. He realises the heat of the words is lost.

Link laughs, lifts his mouth off of Rhett and shoots him a lopsided smile along with an eye roll, but he tightens his fist and pulls up, quick, using his spit to help him along and Rhett’s glad he didn’t push it too far. Really glad he didn’t ruin it all. He wants to do this forever, and why didn’t they start doing this, like, 4 years ago?  
  
Rhett’s neck is cramping, the back of his head leaned against the hard wall and his legs still hanging off the bed. Link’s just hanging on as well, so Rhett wonders if he can move them around a little without losing the magic that seems to have settled around the room.

His voice is just a whisper when he finally says, “hey, Link? Do you think we can move?”

Link doesn’t answer, just swings a leg and shuffles around. Rhett fixes himself, settles with his head on his pillow, and Link sidles up next to him, one leg over one of Rhett’s, head on Rhett’s bicep, hand straight back to Rhett’s cock and he’s slowed down now, languid strokes, but it’s exactly what Rhett wants, Link at his side and the perfect pace, and it doesn’t take much longer before he feels his abdomen tighten, coming over his own stomach and Link’s hand.

He’s covered in both of their come. It doesn’t feel any different from his own, but the knowledge that it’s Link’s mixed with his is making his head feel fuzzy.

Link’s asleep in minutes, before Rhett’s even caught his breath, and that’s just typical. But through his annoyance, Rhett feels the warmth swell in his chest, the smile tug at his lips. He wraps his arm around Link’s shoulders and squeezes, content.

He knows that, at least for a while, Link forgot about his test. Rhett’s happier than ever to know that it was him that got Link out of his mood, takes it as the accomplishment it is. He wants to help Link everyday, hopes it’s not just this one time.

He knows it won’t be.


End file.
